


Between Scylla and Charybdis

by NotSimplySusurrus



Series: A Valiant Odyssey [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Doctor (Doctor Who), Come Eating, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, First Time Bottoming, Gay, Gay Sex, Leg Humping, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Missionary Position, Sub Doctor (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSimplySusurrus/pseuds/NotSimplySusurrus
Summary: Seeing the Master again for the first time in hundreds of years makes the Doctor realise just how much he's missed his old friend. Despite his mixed feelings, learning that the Master feels similarly leads to the pair indulging in each others company just the same as they did when they were young. Because of his sworn duty to protect the Earth, the Doctor has a difficult time deciding which path to follow: the one prescribed by his head or the one prescribed by his hearts.





	Between Scylla and Charybdis

**Author's Note:**

> This could easily have a sequel (or a few tbh), but I also have a million other ideas for fics and at least seven WIPs at the moment. Let me know what you think!

By this point in his long life, the Doctor was completely used to the Master’s schemes for taking over this planet or enslaving that species. The Doctor had always found a way to stop him, spending much of his younger years liberating planets and entire races from the Master’s control. That was what he was used to, and though he was now in an incredibly similar situation as he’d found himself in countless times before—standing on board the Valiant and thinking hard about how he’d fix planet Earth—the Master seemed to have a few more tricks up the sleeve of his tailored suit.

For example, the Doctor was not tied up in some dingy dungeon. He wasn’t in chains. He wasn’t in any pain or otherwise incapacitated. No, the Doctor was standing in the middle of the Master’s bedroom, and he was incredibly confused about that fact. But the confusion didn’t stop his trademark, endless curiosity. He found the room rather characteristic of what the Master liked: upscale but not ostentatious, tidy but not without personal touch, and telling of his favourite extracurricular activity but not overtly pornographic. The Doctor sighed, wondering what the Master could possibly want with him here.

“I’m surprised by your patience,” the Master said, walking into his bedroom with his usual air of confidence. “Usually you’d be banging about, looking for some way out of here.” The Doctor flinched when the Master let the door slam shut behind him.

“We’re both surprised, then,” the Doctor said, crossing his arms and hoping he appeared equally as confident as the Master was. “Why am I here?”

“Well, when two Time Lords love each other very much—”

“I don’t mean why am I alive,” the Doctor said quickly, cutting the Master off. He reddened slightly, flustered by the ease with which the Master could talk about these things. “Why am I in your bedroom?” The Master said nothing in response, merely smiling and stepping closer to the Doctor. “What are you doing?” The Doctor demanded, looking anywhere but the Master’s face. Though strange behaviour wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of the Master, this was creeping into territory that made the Doctor uncomfortable. Before the Doctor knew it, the Master was standing toe-to-toe with him. “Please say something.” He said, making to take a step backward as he was sure the Master was about to strike him.

“Something.” The Master grabbed the Doctor’s hand to keep him from moving away. He pulled the taller man close to him. The Doctor’s breath caught in his chest as the Master cupped his face. Despite a lingering fear that the Master would hit him, the Doctor risked a look at the Master, who was studying his face like one might a work of fine art. It occurred to the Doctor then that the Master had yet to have the opportunity to get a good look at this regeneration. The Master’s fingers brushed gently across his cheek. “You have freckles,” he said softly. He sounded curious—awed even.

“Why—” Before the Doctor could ask about the Master’s behaviour, the Master leant up and kissed him right on the lips. When the Master pulled away, the Doctor’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He didn’t know what to say or do. He didn’t even know if he liked that the Master had kissed him.

“Do you remember our days at the Academy fondly?” The Master asked. The Doctor touched his lips where the Master’s fingers had brushed against them and glanced back at the bed nervously.

“For the most part,” he admitted. “After all, I was with you most of the time.” As he said this, it occurred to the Doctor how much he missed the Master—how much he missed his friend. “Do…you?”

“Yes, of course,” the Master said, and though he smiled, the Doctor thought he looked sad. The pair stared at one another in silence for a few moments as the Doctor wondered where all of this was headed. Surely the Master didn’t bring him here merely to reminisce about the past. The Master cupped the Doctor’s cheek in his hand once more, but this time, the Doctor leant into his touch. The Master was frequently unpredictable, but the Doctor didn’t feel the need to worry about that now.

“I’ve missed you,” the Doctor said.

“I know,” the Master replied. He leant up and kissed the Doctor again, but this time the Doctor was ready for it. He smiled as the Master took his face in both hands, which gave the Master the perfect opportunity to push his tongue into the Doctor’s mouth.

“Why do you always do that?” The Doctor asked when the Master finally pulled away.

“You like it, and you know it,” the Master said…and he was right. The Doctor did like it—he liked it a lot. He liked for the Master to take control. He liked being controlled, and the Doctor was certain that the Master knew this as well. “Now take off that hideous coat.”

“It’s not hideous,” the Doctor said somewhat indignantly. He couldn’t tell if the Master was trying to be playful or if he really meant it. He shrugged his coat off nonetheless, mumbling to himself about his superior fashion sense. The Master took off his jacket and carefully laid it over the back of a nearby loveseat.

“Your turn,” he said when he turned back around to face the Doctor. The Doctor smiled. They’d played this…game of sorts before at the Academy. Many times. The Doctor took off his jacket as was asked of him and dropped it on the floor. The Master’s resulting irritated sigh made the Doctor smile. He’d always been messy, and that fact never failed to annoy the Master.

“Your shoes and socks,” the Doctor said. “Probably should have started there.”

“Prude,” the Master said, rolling his eyes as he toed off his shoes and socks. The Doctor had to sit down on the floor to pull off his own shoes.

“I’m not being a prude,” the Doctor said from his place on the floor. “I’m being practical, thank you very much.”

The pair of them went on in this way until they were both in their pants. The Doctor had to admit that he enjoyed the sight of the Master’s mostly nude body. This regeneration of his was slim and blond and undeniably handsome. The Doctor looked down at his own nakedness and blushed, wondering if the Master liked what he saw. 

“So what now?” The Doctor asked, staring down at his feet. The Master moved close enough to put his hands on the Doctor’s chest. He fanned out his fingers, making the Doctor shiver when they brushed over his nipples. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Master asked softly. He planted a kiss on the Doctor’s cheek that was equally soft as his words had been. “You’ve missed me, and I’ve missed you, et cetera, et cetera.” The Master hooked his fingers on the waistband of the Doctor’s pants. “Why don’t we each show the other just how much he’s been missed?” 

“That is…certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had,” the Doctor said. He shivered slightly, very aware of the Master’s fingernails pressed against his hips. The Doctor didn’t understand why something they’d done countless times before had him feeling so on edge now. He laughed nervously, taking a few steps backwards and waving a hand around behind him to feel for where the bed was. The Master watched him intently, following as he went. When the Doctor felt the back of his thighs hit the edge of the bed and made to have a seat, the Master sank to his knees, pulling the Doctor’s pants down with him.

“You seem nervous.” The Master gently pushed the Doctor’s legs apart, making him shiver again. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The Master said, drawing his fingers down the Doctor’s thighs. The Doctor laughed humourlessly in response.

“History suggests otherwise,” he said. The Master merely shrugged in response, taking the Doctor’s cock in his hand. “Though I suppose I’d be just fine with that changing.” The Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed and his breath caught in his chest as the Master began slowly pumping his fist. “I’m glad we’re getting along. It’s nice and—”

“Are you going to talk this much the entire time?” The Master asked, sighing irritably. Unable to put his hands in his lap, the Doctor gripped the duvet under him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Whatever for?” The Master licked up the Doctor’s shaft slowly, teasingly, drawing a restrained moan from him. Because of this, it took the Doctor a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Let’s see?” The Doctor began sarcastically. “The Earth is quite literally crumbling beneath our feet. You’ve enslaved an entire race of people after murdering a massive number of them. Need I go on?” The Doctor looked down at the Master expectantly, but the other man seemed far more interested in pleasuring him. The Master licked up the Doctor’s shaft again before responding.

“That’s true,” he said, smiling. “All of it. The Earth is crumbling beneath us, and you’re in my bed, letting me fondle you like a whore.” The Doctor’s cheeks reddened. The Master was right. He was shirking his sworn duty to protect the Earth in the interest of getting laid. He knew that he was a bad person, but this was a whole new level of failing those he’d promised to protect. “This is supposed to be fun,” the Master said, rolling his eyes. “Lighten up.” He took the Doctor’s cock into his mouth, and the Doctor moaned, pushing thoughts of his own failures away. He figured that he ought to enjoy himself. The alternative to whatever this was supposed to be was much worse, anyway. The Master could be torturing him or keeping him chained up, but he was sucking him off instead. The Doctor smiled, suddenly amused by the situation. He thought that he really did manage to get himself into the strangest predicaments. 

“Please, could you—er, could we—do…more?” The Doctor asked, his voice husky and strained from the Master’s skilled attention to his member. The Master pulled off of the Doctor’s cock with a lewd pop. His lips were red and had swelled just a little bit, the sight of which made the Doctor flush a deep crimson. 

“More?” The Master asked innocently. “I’m afraid, I don’t know what ‘more’ means?” 

“You do so,” the Doctor grumbled. The Master rose to his feet, pushed the Doctor back onto his back and climbed atop him. He leant down to press a gentle kiss to the Doctor’s lips. 

“Enlighten me,” he said, his voice low and perhaps the most sensual the Doctor had ever heard it. The Doctor could only stare up at him—with what he imagined must be a very stupid look on his face—as his brain seemed to have stopped working. He blinked a few times, swallowing dryly. The Master chuckled at the sight of how he had affected the Doctor before standing back up to take his pants off. “You might want to move back a bit,” the Master said as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. The Doctor did as was asked of him sluggishly, still trying to process how he felt while the Master rummaged around in the drawer of his bedside table. The Doctor watched him, curious as to what he was looking for. Eventually, the Master produced a small bottle of lube from the drawer. The Doctor’s brow furrowed. The Master’s odd consideration of his feelings—for once—was puzzling. “What?” The Master asked. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” The indignance in his voice made the Doctor smile. The last thing the Master seemed to want was for the Doctor to think he cared about him. 

“Of course,” the Doctor said. He bit his lip, knowing exactly how to pay the Master back for this consideration. “Of course you did Master.” The Master grinned at the sound of the Doctor saying his name. He quickly rejoined the Doctor on his bed, unscrewing the bottle of lube with his teeth and spitting out the cap. 

“Say it again,” he breathed, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his cock and using it to stroke himself hard. 

“Yes, Master,” the Doctor said. The Master tossed the open bottle off the bed somewhere. He had plenty of servants to clean the floor, after all. He used the excess from stroking himself to open the Doctor up, pushing a finger into him. The Doctor’s back arched involuntarily when the Master’s practised fingers found just the right spot. The Master pushed another finger inside of him, and the resulting mixture of pleasure and pain made his head spin. “So good to your whore, Master.” The Doctor gripped the duvet below him tightly, whimpering and squirming as the Master fingered him. This regeneration had never experienced such pleasure. For all intents and purposes, he was a virgin, only having experimented a little bit with both Rose and Jack. The Doctor had been afraid to go ‘all the way’ with either of them—particularly Jack, who had wanted him to—and now he was glad that he hadn’t. Some part of him felt that the Master deserved to be the one to have him first. Always. After all, he’d been the Doctor’s first, first, so to speak. 

“I think my pretty, little whore is ready for his Master.” The Master dragged his fingers across the Doctor’s prostate for emphasis, making the trembling man below him moan obscenely. 

“Yes, Master.” The Doctor was breathing hard, thoughts of past sexual encounters with the Master swirling around his mind. He felt delirious and wondered if the Master had somehow gained access to his mind without the Doctor realising it. The Master was a powerful telepath—and always had been—but the Doctor dismissed this thought as needlessly suspicious. When he felt the tip of the Master’s cock pressing up against his hole, the Doctor gasped, “please be gentle.”

“Did you save your cherry for little old me?” The Master teased. “How thoughtful of you?” 

“How could I have possibly—”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” the Master said, kissing the Doctor to keep him from saying anything more on the subject. He pulled away only when his oxygen bypass system was screaming at him that it had had enough. Panting as he was still trying to steady out his breathing, the Master was slightly shaky as he lined up his cock with the Doctor’s hole again. Minding the Doctor’s request that he be gentle, the Master pressed into him slowly. “Rassilon, always knew you were a tightass. But—jokes aside—you seriously need to relax.” 

“Yes, Master.” The Doctor exhaled sharply through his nose, determined for this to go well and feeling unhappy that his body was being noncooperative. The thought that he was ruining the first time in hundreds of years that the Master had been anything even remotely resembling ‘nice’ to him didn’t help him calm down. Moreover, it occurred to him that relaxing wasn’t something he’d ever done particularly well. With the weight of all of time and space on his shoulders, relaxing didn’t come easily to him. He couldn’t possibly do it alone. “Would you help me?” The Doctor asked. 

“It is ultimately for my benefit,” the Master said. “I suppose I could.” He took the Doctor’s cock in his hand to stroke the Doctor’s shaft. Pleasure sparked up the Doctor’s spine, making the pain of the Master’s intrusion far more tolerable. He moaned, and the Master took this as a good enough indication that he could continue. He went on carefully pushing into the Doctor as he stroked the Doctor’s cock. 

“Thank you, Master.” The Doctor threw his head back, moaning and bucking his hips up into the Master’s fist. With his hips now flush against the Doctor’s arse, the Master leaned down to kiss the Doctor.

“What a slut?” He said, moving down to kiss and bite the sensitive skin just under the Doctor’s jaw. “Master’s little slut.” The Master thrust his hips gently, mindful of the Doctor’s sensitivity. “Tell me how it feels,” the Master said, nipping at the Doctor’s ear. The Doctor whimpered and spread his legs further, wanting as much of the Master as he could get. His thighs trembled with the effort, as he was unused to being in such a position—on his back, spread-eagle, and unsure of what to do with his hands. He tentatively reached out to touch the Master’s face. 

“So big.” The Doctor’s brow furrowed, as he was unsure what the Master wanted him to say. “But good,” he added softly. 

“Just good? I can do better than that,” the Master said. He shifted, reangling his hips so that the head of his cock rubbed over the Doctor’s prostate with each thrust. The Doctor wanted to scream, but all of the air in his lungs had seemingly disappeared. His vision went white, pleasure overtaking his shivering form. “Ohh now that’s the right spot, isn’t it?” The Master asked, pushing up against the Doctor’s mental defences to bring him back to his senses. The Doctor panted, slowly remembering how to breathe again. A stream of whimpers and moans fell past his lips as he searched desperately for the right words with which to respond. The Doctor couldn’t string a sentence together in any of the languages he’d worked so hard to learn, only able to hold on to a word or two from each. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how to take all these pieces and cram them together into a lop-sided puzzle of a sentence. The grammar just wasn’t there. Each language passed through his fingers like the silky sand that surrounded the beloved barn he’d spent much of his youth living in. When his hands were as empty as his brain, only one language remained: his first. 

“Yes, Master—the perfect spot. Fuuuck, the best spot.” He offered the Master a half-smile, equally as surprised as the Master looked to hear himself speaking Gallifreyan. The Master smiled too, thrusting faster, which the Doctor felt indicated that he liked hearing the Doctor speak their native tongue. Thanks to the Doctor, he couldn’t exactly hear it anywhere else. The Doctor grabbed the Master’s face and pulled him into a kiss in order to distract himself from such terrible thoughts. The Master allowed it only for the few moments it took to register and process the shock of the Doctor behaving so boldly. 

“Naughty, naughty whore,” the Master chastised. He pulled out and moved away from the Doctor, making the Doctor whimper unhappily. The displeasing feeling of no longer being so full jarred the Doctor enough to bring his English back. 

“No Master,” he huffed, frowning. 

“What did you say to me?” The change in the Master’s behaviour was instantaneous and shocking to the Doctor. He could feel his hearts beating hard in his chest. He very much wanted to run, worried that the Master would hit him—which was a generous expectation. “Turn. Over.” The Doctor couldn’t bring himself to move a muscle until the Master shouted, “now.” He scrambled to roll onto his stomach, not wanting to upset the Master any further. “Put that pretty arse of yours up in the air and arch your back.” The Doctor moved into such a position only for the Master to grab his hair and force his back to arch further. The Master pushed into the Doctor in one, rough stroke. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” the Doctor whined. “Sorry—so sorry.” The Master, however, wanted none of it, releasing his grip on the Doctor’s hair to push his face into the bed and pound into him harder. 

“Listen to me, and listen to me well, filthy slut.” The Master’s words frightened the Doctor, but oddly enough, they excited him, too. “No one tells me what to do—least of all cockwhores like you.” The Doctor drew in a shaky breath, finding that he very much enjoyed being insulted. “I will punish you for being a brat after I use you to get off, and if you’re a very good whore, your Master will let you cum, too.” The Doctor moaned when he heard this, finding that it all sounded pleasing to him. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, what kind of person that made him. The Master was right to call him a whore and a slut. “Tell me you understand.” 

“Yes Master,” the Doctor said obediently.

“Good boy.” Despite his words of praise, the Master continued the punishing pace at which he began when he switched positions. The Doctor lost all ability to form coherent sentences, whimpers and moans streaming past his lips nonstop as the Master fucked him. The rough treatment caused an awful pain to flare up in his arse, but the incapacitating pleasure from the Master’s abuse of his prostate made the pain bearable. Positive he’d be in tears if the Master let him cum first, the Doctor pushed back to meet the Master’s thrusts in the hope of getting him there first. “I think my slutty boy likes that a lot, doesn’t he? Do you feel full, little whore?” The Master let up on his pushing the Doctor’s face into the bed in favour of holding onto his hips, which allowed the Doctor to nod in response to the Master’s raunchy questions. The Doctor didn’t believe he was capable of responding in any other way. The Doctor’s hips moved as if on autopilot—despite how exhausted he felt—pushing back just as hard as the Master thrust into him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to move more fluidly, giving the Master the opportunity to grab a handful of his hair once again. “That arch in your back is so pretty,” the Master said, making the Doctor’s chest swell with pride. His Master thought he was pretty. So pretty, he’d said. The Doctor didn’t want to be anything else for anyone else for the rest of time. He wanted to savour this moment forever, committing the sound of the Master’s voice calling him pretty to memory. After all, who knew how the Master would treat him when they were finished?

The Master’s grip on the Doctor’s hips tightened as his thrusts became more rough and erratic. The Master moaned—making perhaps the most beautiful sound the Doctor had ever heard—and came inside him. The feeling was odd but not unpleasant, and the Doctor couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. The Master patted the Doctor’s thigh as if to tell him he’d done a good job before pulling out of him. He took a seat with his back against his headboard while the Doctor gathered the strength to sit up. His thighs trembled, unused to being spread so wide for so long. The best he could manage was rolling over onto his back, hard cock standing at attention.

“Was I a good enough whore?” The Doctor asked tentatively, eyes focused on his erection.

“Good enough for your Master to let you cum, you mean,” the Master replied. The Doctor leaned his head back to look up at the Master and found that he was smiling. “I suppose, but even good whores have to work for their orgasms.” Finally having regained strength in his legs, the Doctor sat up to face the Master properly. “Come here,” the Master said. The Doctor scooted closer, eager to know what the Master wanted him to do. “Closer.”

“Any closer, and I’ll be in your lap,” the Doctor said, pursing his lips. Surely the Master wasn’t going to fuck him again just yet. When the Master said nothing in response, the Doctor crawled closer to him and sat in his lap.

“Clever slut,” the Master said. “Now then, you may cum if you can get there humping my thigh like the desperate, little whore that you are.” The Doctor blushed profusely at the Master’s words, already embarrassed. “Come on, you want to cum, don’t you?” The Master teased the head of the Doctor’s cock with three of his fingers, featherlight touches trailing across the head. The Doctor whimpered and nodded, his eyes closed tight. The Master leaned up to nip at the Doctor’s ear as he teased. “Then get to it,” he whispered.

“Yes, Master.” The Doctor buried his face in the crook of the Master’s neck so that he wouldn’t have to look at the Master while he did something so embarrassing and slutty. He took a deep breath and grabbed the headboard behind the Master to brace himself.

“Go on,” the Master said, resting his hands on the Doctor’s arse and pulling slightly to encourage him. The Doctor rolled his hips against the Master’s thigh, aided by the Master’s earlier miscalculation of how much lube was enough.

“Ohhh Master,” the Doctor gasped in the Master’s ear. The Doctor leant more heavily into the Master, his embarrassment overcome by his desperate need to cum. He rolled his hips again, intoxicated by the velvety friction which resulted. “I love being your whore,” the Doctor said, beginning to hump the Master’s thigh in earnest. His body trembled with effort, but the Doctor couldn’t have slowed down if he wanted to. The Master patted the Doctor’s head gently before resting his hands on the Doctor’s hips.

“I dare say this is the sluttiest thing you’ve ever done for me,” the Master said. “Humping my leg like some wild beast. What a dirty whore?” The Doctor could only just barely register what was being said to him, but he nodded in agreement. The Doctor’s thighs and core began to burn terribly as he rutted up against the Master.

“Mhm, I’m a dirty whore.” The Doctor felt the familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach that signalled his impending orgasm. He slowed his pace just a little, knowing that the Master would punish him if he failed to ask for permission before he came. “Master—Master may I cum, please?”

“You’ll be cleaning up the mess you make,” the Master said. “It’s most appropriate that you lap it up after all this humping, I think.” He reached up to pet the Doctor’s hair again, drawing out the Doctor’s frustration even longer.

“I will, Master. I will—promise. Please, may I cum?” The Doctor was getting desperate, fighting hard to keep from cumming while he continued humping the Master’s thigh. The Master chuckled and pressed a kiss into the Doctor’s cheek.

“Cum for me, sweethearts,” the Master said. The Doctor moaned, relieved that the Master granted him permission to cum. With a few more thrusts, the Doctor cried out as his semen splattered across the Master’s thigh. Exhausted and sweaty, the Doctor slumped up against the Master to catch his breath. “Now what do you say when your Master is kind to you?”

“Thank you, Master,” the Doctor mumbled, taking a few deep breaths before pushing himself up to look at the Master. “Thank you,” the Doctor said again.

“Good boy,” the Master said, pulling the Doctor in for a kiss. “Now clean up your mess.” The Doctor offered a small smile before sliding off the Master’s lap and leaning down to lick his semen off of the Master’s thigh. The Master gently squeezed the back of the Doctor’s neck as the Doctor cleaned him up as per his command. “That tickles a bit,” he said. The Doctor giggled, looking up at the Master.

“May I suck your cock?” The Doctor asked, batting his eyelashes and licking his lips. “My mouth is plenty close enough, don’t you think?”

“No, we’re done playing today. Sit up,” the Master said, rubbing the Doctor’s back. Remembering the Master’s promise to punish his earlier misbehaviour, the Doctor resigned himself to a small frown as he sat up. “But I love what an eager, little whore you are.” The Doctor cuddled up to the Master, offering his hand to be held. The Master looked down at the hand in his lap and then up at the Doctor’s expectant face. “You’ve been…a very good boy,” the Master said quickly, looking away but taking the Doctor’s hand. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I could be a good boy for you all the time,” The Doctor said quietly, breaking the silence.

“How do you mean?” The Master asked.

“If you ran away with me? We could go anywhere—any time,” the Doctor replied. “Together. I—I would let you use my body as you please. Master, please just leave the Earth alone.” The Master squeezed the Doctor’s hand before pushing him away and sliding off the bed.

“I asked you to run away with me once,” he said, facing away from the bed. Being unable to see the look on his face, the Doctor’s stomach tangled up in knots. The Master’s voice had come across as so monotonous and uncaring, leaving the Doctor to worry over what the Master was thinking. 

“I should have said yes,” the Doctor replied. “But I was scared.” The Doctor felt that he may cry. He bit his lip, still consumed by his worry over what, exactly the Master was thinking. “I’m still scared,” he admitted.

“You should have.” The Master looked back at the Doctor over his shoulder. “But you didn’t.” Though the expression on his face revealed nothing about what he may be thinking, the Doctor thought that he noticed just a glimmer of the hatred for him that had fuelled the Master’s actions all these years. 

“And I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m going to have a shower, as I’ve much work to do,” the Master said, ignoring the Doctor’s apologies. “When I return from my office, you will be punished for your earlier misbehaviour.” The Doctor clasped his hands in his lap. Of course, the Master would pursue his scheme. It was silly of the Doctor to be so bold as to assume otherwise. “Clean yourself while I’m gone or you’ll make a mess of the duvet.”

“Yes, Master,” the Doctor said softly, obediently as the Master left him on his own. What else was there for him to say? He pulled his knees to his chest, deeply hurt by the Master’s rejection. If this is what it felt like, the Doctor supposed he deserved it, having rejected his friend all those years ago. His body and obedience were the only things he had to offer the Master now, though the Master seemed intent on using the Doctor’s body as it pleased him, anyway. Tears trailed down his cheeks, which he brushed away quickly. How was he to protect the Earth when the Master was his only weakness? The Master had his hearts, whether the Doctor liked it or not. All there was to do now was obey his Master and hope his mind could be changed.

And be punished, of course. The Doctor had the feeling he’d receive punishment quite a lot. He only hoped he could handle however the Master decided he ought to be punished.

Because if he couldn’t, the Earth was truly doomed.


End file.
